


Say Please

by NicieLove



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-06-27 20:51:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19797544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicieLove/pseuds/NicieLove
Summary: Molly is mortified when Sherlock catches her in the act. How is she supposed to be around him now?!Rated Mature for later chapter





	1. Chapter 1

“Oh my god! Get out!” 

Molly Hooper was mortified. There she was, pleasuring herself (It’s been a while, okay!), when she opened her eyes to see her door just as it opened to reveal Sherlock. “Molly, I need-” He stopped short, seeing her frozen on her bed, one hand pinching her nipple and the other between her legs. She was completely nude. There was a second, a too long second, where Molly just could not move. Sherlock blinked and huffed out a breath. That brought life into her limbs and she shrieked at him, throwing herself off of the bed to the opposite side and bringing the comforter with her. 

When he did not move from the doorway, still staring at the place she had lain, she picked up a pillow and threw it at him. “Sherlock, get out!” It hit him in the face and seemed to shake him out of his stupor. He blinked rapidly, looked at her with a blank face, and walked out of the room pulling the door closed behind him. Molly stared at the door, slack jawed until she heard the front door close. Her head fell on the bed as she screamed into her mattress. Her cheeks burned. Instead of feeling aroused or satisfied, she felt like she was going to cry.

The last she heard, he had been in America for a case. It had been three weeks since he had shown up in the lab or decided he needed to invade her bedroom and left her to hole up on the sofa. It was a nice reprieve but she always wondered when he would come back. She groaned. Now she won’t be able to look at him again. Maybe she should just move countries.

Wrapping the comforter around herself more securely, she dragged herself off of the floor to take a shower. She opened the door slightly to listen for any noises in the flat. Everything was silent. She crept out into the living room and looked at her door. At least he had the decency to lock it this time. She saw Toby lounging on the couch, his hazel eyes staring at her. “Fat load of help you are,” she gripped at him. “You could have given me some type of warning.” Toby blinked slowly at her, then, stretching and yawning, hopped off of the sofa and walked down the hall to her bedroom. Making her way to the bathroom, she took a quick shower and while she dried off, her mobile pinged. Picking it up, she saw a message from Meena.

Drinks tonight? 

Molly smiled. It was like she knew! 

God yes! Ten minutes. -Mx

When she walked through the door of the pub, she was relieved to see Meena already at a table near the bar. She had two glasses of wine in front of her as she waved excitedly at Molly. "Lucy won’t be joining us tonight. She said she had something to do. I got the first round," she told her as she got closer. Molly nodded her thanks, picking up the glass handed to her, and proceeded to chug it down. Meena stared at her, wide-eyed. Molly set the empty glass down with a sigh. "What uh, what happened? You never drink like this."

"Sherlock saw me masturbating," Molly said quietly. If it were possible for Meena's eyes to get any wider, she achieved it. She silently slid her glass toward Molly who gratefully swallowed that one down too. They were quiet for a while as Meena tried to process this.

"Did you know he was coming? Was it on purpose?" Molly glared at her.

"No! What do you mean? No it wasn't on purpose! Why would I do that? I had just gotten off work and it had been a while. I just wanted time for myself!"

Meena shrugged. "I thought it could have been a seduction tactic. You know! Tease him a little to get him to want to jump you. Show him a little of this, a little of that." She shimmied her chest forward, much to the delight of one of the passing men. He stopped and smiled at her suggestively. She waved him away. "Not now, mate." When he walked away disappointed, Meena looked closer at Molly. "I'm assuming by the way you look and the fact that you are here and just downed two glasses of wine like they were water, you two did not have sex." Molly's mouth fell open and her eyes darted around as if she were afraid someone heard. 

"No! No we did not. Where would you get that from? Sherlock doesn't do sex and even if he did, he wouldn’t do that with me!" Molly was a lightweight so Meena could tell the two glasses of wine were affecting her if she can say "Sherlock" and "sex" in the same sentence. Meena smirked at her and she rolled her eyes."I need another drink." She went to the bar and ordered another wine for Meena and a hefty glass of beer for herself. 

When she got back to the table and Meena saw the beer in her hand, she said "So it's that type of night?" Molly nodded tiredly and drank from the glass.

"It's that type of night."

"I'm assuming you will be sleeping at my place then."

"Please. I would be so grateful." Meena hit her glass on Molly's, who then began to do her very best to get shitfaced. Since this didn't happen often, Meena stopped herself at two drinks so that she can fully enjoy pissed-off-her-arse Molly. It was funny until Molly tried to become very friendly with a man who looked like a deeply discounted, bargain bin Sherlock and looked more than happy to have her attention. He was too slimy for Meena's taste. She grabbed Molly's arm and began dragging her to the door. Molly moaned her disappointment, resisting. "Meeeenaaa! I was in the middle of a cover- a c- I was talking!" Meena laughed. She was well and truly gone now and there was no way in hell she was leaving her friend in that man’s clutches in this state.

"Come on, love. I have more drinkies at my flat," Meena told her soothingly. Molly smiled widely and threw her arms around Meena's neck, planting a kiss on her cheek near her mouth. The slimy Sherlock look-alike looked very excited at the prospect that he could be getting a show. 

"You know just how to treat me. If I liked women, you'd be the one I would be with," Molly said, nuzzling her face into Meena's neck. She laughed and pulled her towards the door again. 

"Oh hun, I don't think Lucy would like that very much. Besides, I'd drive you crazy and vice versa. You're way too sensible for me. Well usually." She sprang for a cab because she did not want Molly walking in her state. By the time they got to her flat, Molly's head lolled on her shoulder. Meena paid the cabby and pulled Molly from the car, helping her upstairs. They walked through the door just as Lucy was walking out of the kitchen in her dressing gown. She saw Molly barely able to stand and smirked.

"That kind of night?" She asked. Meena giggled as Molly mumbled and sagged farther on her shoulder. 

"You know it. I'm sorry for not letting you know in advance." Lucy came around and, being taller and a bit stronger than Meena, lifted Molly into her arms and took her to the guest room. Meena went to get water and followed behind.

"It's fine! You know she's always welcome here. I'm just disappointed I didn't get to see her in the beginning. Pissed Molly is a fun Molly." Meena moved the blankets down the bed so that Lucy could place her down. Molly blinked blearily at her.

"Oh Lucy," she slurred. "When did you get here? Nevermind. I’m glad you’re here. Did I tell you, Sherlock Holmes saw me masturbating." Lucy looked startled between Molly and Meena, who was busy removing Molly's shoes and covering her up.

"What?! When did this happen?" She sputtered. 

"Tonight apparently," Meena sighed, standing up straight. She gestured at the dozing Molly. "That's why she's like this."

"Oh my god. The poor girl must have been horrified." Lucy crossed her arms as she looked at Molly, worried. Unlike Meena, she didn't instantly jump to a potential seduction tactic. "It's a good thing you brought her here. Who knows what she would have done by herself!" She paused and grinned. "So how many times did she profess her love to you this time?" Meena laughed as they moved out of the room and closed the door. 

"Only once. When I told her I had drinks here." She looked at Lucy and smirked. "I missed you." She reached up and pulled her down for a kiss, her hand pulling apart her dressing gown. She pulled back to see her wearing a skimpy light pink lingerie set. "Oh Lucille, is that for me?" she purred. She brushed her hand over her exposed hip softly, watching goose pimples rise on her girlfriend's skin. Lucy leaned down to run her lips down her neck and slowly unzipped her dress.

"Of course it is! But the real gift is underneath," she whispered huskily, smacking her butt. Then she straightened, smiling sultrily, and sashayed into their bedroom. Meena grinned broadly and stripped off her dress as she ran after her, slamming the door.

In the guest room, Molly jerked awake at the slammed door. Her hair was in her face, having come loose as the night wore on. She sniffed, roughly pushing her hair out of her eyes, and flailed blindly before she reached over to her purse to retrieve her mobile. She scrolled to Sherlock's name and typed out a quick message. Then, dropping her phone on the floor, went back to sleep. 

Meanwhile, back at Baker Street, Sherlock Holmes is deep in thought, his pinging mobile going unnoticed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support!!! I was a bit nervous to upload this story because it is headed into a territory I don't write often, so bear with me! 
> 
> I had hoped to upload this second part when I finished or almost finished writing the second part but this past week has brought up some problems. However, I didn't want to upload this too late! I will try to get the last part written and uploaded by this time next week. Enjoy! -NLx
> 
> \---------

It's been a whole 3 days and John is going crazy. 

He is used to Sherlock being in his mind palace during cases but they just finished one and they had nothing new on. What could he be thinking about?! Everything John said went ignored and he didn't like it. He started to say things that had no meaning to either of them in hopes to get him to react. He sat across from him and obnoxiously sipped his tea. No reaction. John sighed heavily.

"I would ask you if you would like me to make you some but it seems as if you've used something stronger. Maybe I should get Molly to test you again." He said it off-handedly but it got the desired effect. At the mention of Molly's name, Sherlock blinked. John sat forward. "Are you finally awake?" No answer. John stared at him for a few more seconds but, when it seemed that was all he would get, he sat back and took a drink.

"I saw Molly Hooper naked." John spit out his tea at those words and coughed violently. Sherlock still did not move from his spot. John stared at him in shock.

"Yooou saw Molly Hooper. Naked," He said slowly. He paused, tasting those words. They tasted weird. "How- how did that happen?"

"I walked in on her."

"You went into her room?" Sherlock nodded. "Why?"

"I needed something."

"What did you need?"

Sherlock's brow furrowed. "I don't remember." They were quiet. John set his tea down and leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees and his hands clasped. He opened his mouth to speak but Sherlock beat him to it. "She looked soft and smaller than normal. She had her hair down." His hand made a movement toward his own hair, his expression concentrating. He shifted slightly in his seat. "It was spread over her pillow. It was… different." John blinked. From the slight coloring on the back of his neck and the way he adjusted, he could tell Sherlock liked what he saw. He just couldn't tell why he did yet.

"I didn't take you for a voyeur," he said. Sherlock frowned. 

"I'm not!" His tone was indignant. He would be lying to himself if he said he hadn't thought about it before, however, since there were plenty of opportunities where Molly was concerned. But he would never act on it! God, that sounded horrible.

"Sherlock," he sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. "When did this happen?"

"Three days ago."

"Three d-" John looked at him incredulously. "Three days? You saw her three days ago? Is that what you've been thinking about all this time? Molly Hooper nude." Sherlock didn't answer but he didn't have to. His usual poker face seems to have failed him. John slouched in his seat. "I'm assuming, since you haven't moved in that time, that you have not apologized."

Sherlock looked confused at that. "Why would I apologize?"

"Most people wouldn't want to be walked in on while they are naked, Sherlock! I'm sure Molly less than others." He pointed at Sherlock. "You need to apologize. Right now and not over text." 

"I'm sure she wouldn't want to see me right now, John," Sherlock snipped. John was quiet, knowing he was right but Sherlock never cared about how someone felt before. He backtracked. Sherlock did care how Molly felt but never reacted the right way. Then he shrugged.

"A phone call then. And if she doesn't answer, leave a message." Sherlock scoffed.

"I don't leave mess-"

"Do it!" John interrupted. Then he rose from his chair. "I'm going out for a bit. I need to get Rosie and we need milk. Don't leave it too long." He grabbed his coat and left Sherlock alone. 

Sherlock slid down in his chair, petulantly. Why did he have to apologize? He hated apologizing. There was nothing to be sorry for! So he saw her naked. It was just a body, just transport. There was nothing sexual about it, nothing wrong. As soon as that thought entered his mind, however, there was a picture of Molly laying on the bed, her hand between her legs, mouth open and eyes half lidded as she looked at him. He blinked rapidly and shook his head quickly to get the picture out of the way. Instead, it began to move. Molly's hand on her chest came up to beckon him closer and she grinned.

"Sherlock," she murmured. "Come here. It's lonely." Her hand moved faster and she gasped. He let out a small groan and adjusted in his seat again, his trousers a bit too tight. He had no idea how long he watched her.

"Well well, brother mine. Seems as if you aren't a machine after all." Mycroft stood by Molly's bed with a smirk. Sherlock flinched and frowned deeply.

"Get out, Mycroft!" He shouted. Mycroft didn't leave. He perched himself on the bed next to Molly with a chuckle. Molly still made eyes at Sherlock as if he were still the only one in the room.

"Why do you want me to leave? So that you may finish watching as you did earlier?" He tutted. "Mummy would not be pleased."

"I didn't watch earlier!" He didn't want to think about Mummy right now, not while Molly made such lovely noises. "It was an accident. And you know this is not how it happened. I can't stop it. I tried to delete it and I can't. I'm convinced it's your fault." He crossed his arms. He was not pouting. Don't even think it!

"How can it be my fault?" Mycroft asked with a laugh. "I'm a part of your mind palace and therefore only a figment of your imagination." Molly crawled off the bed and made her way towards Sherlock. He was rooted to the spot as he watched her, her fingers trailing slowly down his chest to his trousers. She purred his name. Sherlock swallowed convulsively, his eyes closing briefly. Mycroft looked at him, an eyebrow quirked in amusement. "Perhaps you wanted it to go this way. I'm sure if you asked nicely, she would be more than happy to oblige." Sherlock couldn't respond. Molly's hand had reached her destination and all thought had ceased aside from the delicious things she was doing to him. Her brown eyes looked at him lovingly before she leaned forward and began to lick the shell of his ear and her scent floated all around him. He wanted to bury himself in her. However, Mycroft was not finished. "After all, Sherlock, Ms. Hopper is in love with you. She would do anything for you. In fact, there might be a possibility that she even thought of you during that time." 

"No!" He shouted, standing from his chair. His vision cleared and he was alone in his front room. His breathing was labored and his trousers were still too tight. He sat down on the edge of his seat, his fingers tapping a staccato beat on the arms. Mycroft's words kept echoing through his head. He covered his ears and shook his head as if that would stop it but his voice only seemed to get louder. "Stop it," he croaked out loud. "She wasn't thinking about me and even if she was, I don't care! I will not have sex with Molly Hooper!" The voice stopped and Sherlock relaxed in his seat. He sat in silence for a few moments, staring blankly at the wall opposite. His phone pinged. He picked it up and saw a message from John had come through. 

Did you apologize? -JW

He sneered, intent on ignoring the message when he saw he had also gotten one from Molly. His thumb hovered over it, shaking nervously. He shook his head. What did he have to be nervous about? It was just Molly Hooper, just a shy, friendly pathologist who DID NOT pleasure herself to the thought of him. He pressed on the message. His mouth went dry as it fell open.

Mayb i shouldn't have kicked you out, you wouls have helped a lot more in person than the you in my head ;) -Mx

From the typos and the boldness of the message, he could tell she must have been very drunk. He looked at the time stamp. Three days ago! Four hours after he walked in on her. He brought his phone to his forehead and groaned loudly. If he had only heard his phone go off instead of thinking the whole time, he could have been with her. He jerked back in his chair. No, what! What is he thinking? He definitely didn't want to have sex with Molly Hooper. He saw Mycroft’s condescending smirk. “Shut up,” he growled out loud to no avail. Mycroft still smirked and Molly’s text sent rampant thoughts through his head. He set his phone down and stared at nothing for a moment, his fingers jerkily drumming a beat on the armrests, then he hopped up and stormed into the bathroom, intent on taking a cold shower. Molly winked in his head and he grimaced. A very cold shower. 

Twenty minutes later, John came through the door with the bags. Rosie, now three years old, was downstairs visiting with Mrs. Hudson. He noticed Sherlock’s chair was empty. That was a good sign, at least. CRASH! He jumped. That, however, was not. The sound came from Sherlock’s room. John set the groceries down and walked to the door. It was cracked and he pushed the door open more. The sight that met him was utter chaos. The bed was askew and books, knick knacks, and clothes strewn over the floor. The door of the wardrobe, the source of the noise, was broken and Sherlock was sitting in the corner of the room, a towel around his waist and his hands clutching his still damp hair. 

“What the hell, Sherlock?!” John’s voice was booming and Sherlock flinched but didn’t look up. “What happened?”

“I would think that would be obvious,” he said, sarcastically, his head still bowed.

“Yeah, alright,” John allowed, exasperated. “Why did it happen, then? Is this still about Molly?” No answer. He picked his way across the floor, trying to avoid the worst of the mess. Sherlock could really be a child sometimes. He put Rosie to shame. When he was near him, he crossed his arms and looked down on him. “Did you apologize?” Sherlock lifted his arm and pointed towards the front room. John looked puzzled. “What?”

“My mobile is in my chair,” he mumbled. John paused then walked back out to the front room. He found the phone and unlocked it, reading the message still on display. He read it again in disbelief, looked towards Sherlock’s room, then back at the message, checking the contact and the time the message was sent. 

“Well then,” he breathed. He turned just in time to see Sherlock step out of the room, the towel still loosely draped over his hips. He held up the phone. “She sent this three days ago. Why didn’t you answer?”

Sherlock was frowning. “I didn’t see it,” he grumbled. John tried to hide a smile. If he didn’t know better, he would say Sherlock was disappointed about that. Oh how he wished Mary were here to see this! “Our little Sherlock’s growing up,” came her voice in his head. He couldn’t help but smirk at that. Sherlock was distracted, going back into the bathroom. John followed him and saw this room was in disarray as well.

"You do realize I'm not cleaning this up," John told him. He didn't have to of course because Sherlock was clearing up on his own. His eyebrows rose dramatically. "Well this is new."

"Shut up," Sherlock grumbled, putting the toppled bottles back into place and picking up his discarded clothes. He went back into his room with John trailing behind. Sherlock was agitated. "I don't need a shadow, John! My own is doing a decent job already." He started straightening the bed as John stood by smiling widely.

"You wouldn't be trying to kill time to avoid speaking to Molly, would you?" he mused. Sherlock stayed quiet but his slight hesitation while picking up some books did not go unnoticed by John. He was right. "You know, if you still want access to the lab, you will have to speak to her at some point." Sherlock grimaced. "Maybe put on some clothes. Rosie will be up any moment." His friend huffed petulantly. John pressed his lips together, keeping his laugh in. "So you missed her message and you are upset by it. Why?"

"That's not why I'm upset," Sherlock muttered. The left side of his mouth twitched and John narrowed his eyes. He's lying, and not very well. But he indulged him.

"So why did you destroy the bathroom and your room?" Sherlock avoided his eyes and moved the broken door of the wardrobe out of the way to grab clothes. John sighed. It was like pulling teeth. He thought he would have figured it out by now after Eurus. Even though he was a genius, Sherlock could be an idiot. "Okay then. Maybe I should go and speak with Molly. I’m sure she’s mortified with the situation and could use a friendly face.” He was teasing of course. He knew Molly would be even more mortified if she knew John knew. Sherlock, knowing this, just made a dismissive sound in the back of his throat and brushed past John, fully dressed, in time to see Mrs. Hudson come up the stairs with Rosie in tow.

“Uncle Sherlock!” she yelled with her slight lisp. Sherlock’s face broke into a wide smile as she ran into his arms.

“Hello, Miss Watson. You are getting quite tall!” Sherlock had always had a soft spot for Rosie. John noticed his shoulders relax as Rosie regaled him with tales of her day and he decided to let him off the hook for the time being. He sat across from his two favorite people, with a smile on his face. When Rosie mentioned Molly, John saw the smile slip briefly from Sherlock’s face. He hoped, for both Sherlock and Molly’s sake and John’s sanity, that Sherlock will realize that he has feelings for Molly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is way later than I had hoped to have this up! Unfortunately, life and writer's block got in the way. Sherlock is a hard person to write for. I kept writing, deleting, and rewriting. I am sorry in advance for the less than stellar quality! The story will now be 4 chapters instead of 3. It has run away from me! I hope you guys enjoy and I hope the last chapter will be uploaded faster! -NL
> 
> \-----------

Sherlock laid in bed, his arms planted firmly to the side of his body. John and Rosie had gone back home to 221C an hour ago. It had been renovated after the explosion and no longer had the damp problem. He sighed. That problem was fixed but now, he was stuck here with another problem, the Molly problem. He closed his eyes and could feel soft lips trailing kisses on his neck. His hands clenched into fists. He knows it’s not real but she was like poison running through his veins. The kisses stopped. 

“Well that’s not very nice.” Sherlock opened his eyes and saw Molly smirking and lounging on the bed next to him. She wore his purple shirt and nothing else, her brown hair cascading down her shoulder. Sherlock huffed out a breath and her smirk grew. She trailed a finger down his chest, lightly. “Poisons can be deadly. Am I killing you, Sherlock?”

“Why are you here?” She pouted.

“I was hoping you would have figured that out. You obviously want me here. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be.” Sherlock frowned and she moved her hand from his chest and stared down at him, confused. “Have you really not figured it out yet? Sherlock, for a genius, you really are an idiot.” She laid down on her back, her hands folded together over her stomach, and her head lulled to the side as she looked at him with a pitying smile. “You’ve buried it so deep, your subconscious has to drag it out of you.”

“What are you talking about?” He was irritated at the fact that both John and this Molly seemed to know something he didn’t.

‘What am I to you, Sherlock?” she asked.

He hesitated before answering. “You’re… just my friend. Like John.”

“Liar,” came a familiar voice. He turned his head to see Mary leaning against the wall, a fond smile on her face. He felt a slight punch to his gut, as he does every time he sees her. Even though John had forgiven him, he still felt guilty about her death. “You might be able to lie to yourself but you’ve never been able to lie to me.”

“Well…” She raised a brow and Sherlock acquiesced. “Alright fine! You’re right. As always,” he grumbled.

“Let’s try that again, then.” She leaned forward slightly. “What is Molly Hooper to you? Take your time and really think about it.” Sherlock turned back to look at Molly. She was no longer lounging in his bed wearing his shirt. Instead, she stood next to his bed, wearing a worn colorful jumper, her hair pulled back in her signature ponytail. She smiled at him, not the seductive smile in his mind, but her comforting smile. He found himself smiling back. This Molly was his Molly, the one he was used to and actually looked forward to seeing. He paused then sat up quickly. His Molly? Where did that come from? He looked over at Mary in panic. She shook her head slightly. “It’s alright. The thought might take some getting used to. But you’ve shown it. You just haven’t spoken the actual words.”

“How? How have I shown it? I’ve been horrible to her!,” he realized.

“You show you care in different ways. You told her she counted.” Molly was now sitting at the foot of the bed, her legs crossed. She was wearing light blue woolly pajamas and her hair in a loose bun, looking quite comfortable. “She knew you thought of her as a friend at that moment. And you trusted her with your life. It’s not something she takes lightly.”

“A friend?” he said hesitantly. Though he had used the word in connection with her before, it sounded not quite right now. Molly chuckled and shrugged.

“If that’s all you want. You know her better than anyone at this point. You might have to make the next move, Sherlock. That is, if you want more.” She cocked her head to the side. “Do you want more? Or are you content with keeping her at arm's length?” He looked at her blankly before he closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his mouth. “There will be others, you know.” His eyes flew open. Those words and her smile were innocent but they made his blood turn to ice. “There already was one, remember?” Tom stood behind her with a dopey smile on his face. Sherlock scowled.

“She got rid of him. Because of me, I might add.” Tom disappeared.

“That’s true,” she acquiesced. She smirked. “But is that really something to be proud of? That you are the cause of that poor sweet woman sleeping alone at night?” He arched an eyebrow at her.

“Molly Hooper is an adult woman. She can sleep with whoever she wants.” Even as he said it, he could feel the dread in the pit of his stomach at the thought. The smirk on Molly’s face grew even bigger. She knew. Of course she did. She was him.

“ _ Someone  _ keeps running all of her dates off. I wonder why that is.” She looked playfully, thoughtful before she leaned forward to lay her head on his shoulder. She smelled like Molly and at the same time not. He closed his eyes. She was only an imitation of Molly, not the real thing. Even still, he brought his arms up to hold her to him. “You can do this with her, Sherlock,” she whispered, kindly. “You just have to tell her.”

“She knows,” he told her. He still felt the dread at voicing his feelings. The last time he did, everything went to hell. Eurus smiled at him from the corner of the room and he let go of Molly as if he were burned. Just as quickly as she appeared, she disappeared. Molly was looking at him sadly. He didn’t like that look. He was taken back to the day in that small room, staring at a screen, his heart sinking with each passing second.

_ “I can’t say it because it’s true. Sherlock. It’s always been true.” Her grip on the phone was shaky, her voice breaking, and Sherlock was desperate but he had to remain calm. _

_ “Well if it’s true then say it anyway.” Please, Molly, say it! _

_ She gave a breathy laugh. “You bastard.” Sherlock’s hands began shaking. _

_ “Say it anyway.” He was going to run out of time. He couldn’t run out of time. Not before… _

_ “You say it. Go on. You say it first.” _

_ “What?” He wasn’t sure if he heard her right. _

_ “Go on,” she said, her voice stronger, “say it like you mean it.” _

_ Sherlock’s chest tightened. He- he couldn’t say it. Could he? The clock on the screen ticked away and he felt like he wanted to shout. She was quiet, waiting on his response. He took a shallow breath. “I-” His heart was beating in his throat, making his voice sound strangled. “I love you.” The knot loosened and he spoke again. “I love you.” He watched her eyes close on the screen as she pressed the phone to her lips, one hand cradling the other. “Molly. Molly please.” The seconds were passing too fast. He was afraid he was going to lose her. He began memorizing her face when she finally took a breath. _

_ “I love you.” _

The intense relief he had felt at that moment was overshadowed by Eurus’ next words.  _ You didn’t win. You lost! _ Even in the aftermath, the destroyed coffin, the revelation that his beloved dog, Redbeard, was in fact his childhood best friend, and fixing up 221 after the explosion, he couldn’t stop thinking about Molly. Eurus was right, he had hurt her. But did he actually lose her? Her face swam in front of his eyes and he could not clear it away. While John prattled away about Irene Adler, Molly stood in the middle of the room, her phone clutched to her mouth.

“Someone out there actually loves you,” John had shouted.

“I love you,” came Molly’s soft voice. Sherlock closed his eyes, those words bouncing in his head. She said she meant it. For reasons he did not quite understand, he wanted to hear it again. Later that day, he went to see her at the lab. Those sad eyes met his and he found himself apologizing, again. He always apologized to her. She had smiled at him. “It’s alright, Sherlock. John told me about what you went through. I understand. We’re okay now.” She turned back to her work and Sherlock was left staring at her back. He swallowed.

“Good. That’s… good.” His hands clasped behind his back as he went to stand by her side. “What are you working on?” She began explaining her work and they talked about the different poisons found in the cadaver’s system (overkill if you asked him). They spoke for hours and before he left for the night, Molly had quietly told him happy birthday. This meant more than Irene saying it. He smiled at her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight, Molly.” The knot in his stomach started to loosen. This was Molly, of course he wouldn’t lose her! How could he have ever doubted her? Here it was, two years later and she still was there. His friend, his… Molly. 

He blinked and he was alone again in his room, Mary and Molly gone. His hand rested on the spot where she had sat. It was cold. Of course it would be, she wasn’t really here. His mind whirled. Molly Hooper’s role in his life was a complicated one. She had changed from just the shy pathologist who did whatever he wanted into a strong-willed woman who was not above putting him in his place. Where that would normally be a hindrance to his work, Molly also kept him grounded. But did he care for her as more than a friend? Did he actually… love her? 

He enjoyed her company of course. Molly was intelligent and she made it known. In the beginning, she was quiet, but the more time she spent around him, particularly the month he spent with her after the Fall, the more outspoken she became. She challenged him while he stayed in her flat, working with him through the plan to dismantle Moriarty’s network, pointing out clues he otherwise wouldn’t have seen since he was too close to the picture. As they worked, Sherlock found himself looking at her more and more as they worked. She was more at ease. 

One night, she worked on a peer review paper. Sherlock had never seen her so relaxed, lounging beside him on the sofa in blue wool pajamas, her hair in a loose bun, reading glasses perched on her nose, and a pen between her teeth. He had been in his mind palace but was drawn out by her muttering. It was the first time he could look at her without her fidgeting under his gaze. Her hair was coming loose and she had a slight frown on her lips as she mouthed the words on the document in front of her. His eyes traced her face, noticing, perhaps for the first time, just how cute she was. She gave a short laugh as she made a note on the page and he wanted to kiss her, knowing that it might be his last chance. His nose had wrinkled at the sentimental thought. Where did that come from? He disappeared into her guest room and didn’t resurface until the next morning to tell her that he was leaving. 

When he came back, after being punched multiple times by his so called best friend, he was looking forward to seeing her after those two long years. He missed her. He thought about her more than he thought he would. Of course he wouldn’t say it out loud. Her smile was exactly what he wanted to see, the ring box sitting on her locker shelf, however, was not. He felt a flare up of jealousy, something he had not felt in a long time. He was good at pushing it down. Everything after that had gotten into their way. Now there was no pressing case, no  fiancé , and no unknown siblings wanting to hurt him. The only thing preventing him from being with her was himself. He looked at the time. 10:18. She should be off soon. He slid out of bed. His stomach dipped, suddenly nervous. He only hoped her feelings for him haven’t diminished from him waiting so long. 

Maybe it was time to see her.


End file.
